


MGS2 Simulation: Tackling a Crisis

by CreativeLiterature



Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeLiterature/pseuds/CreativeLiterature
Summary: Second in the MGS2 Simulation series. Five friends become virtual commanders of the Big Shell, now further protected by bodyguard units with special abilities on offer. A sixth player tries to secretly gain access while envy consumes one of the original five.
Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184519





	MGS2 Simulation: Tackling a Crisis

_ A/N: This is the second in my MGS simulation series, so for background reading please check out my first simulation story. _

The white light that filled the room was a precursor to the simulated environment which followed. Adam, Clara, Grace, Max and Zoe stood in the B2 computer room, in the core of the Shell 1 complex.

"What happened?" asked Grace, the first to speak.

The parrot cawed from its cage atop the bank of monitors.

"You failed," chirped the parrot. "You failed."

"What are we supposed to do now?" asked Zoe in despair. "Why are we here?"

"You're here to try again," replied Clara, scoffing. "Why else would they put us back in this simulation?"

Zoe scowled, but Clara took no notice, or simply ignored her.

"What do we do?" asked Adam of the parrot, walking up to it.

"You are to pick a computer and sit in front of it. A program will load which will aid you in determining your positions throughout the Big Shell," replied the parrot.

Everyone took seats. Grace veered away from Clara and closer to Zoe. Adam sat next to Grace. Neither Clara nor Max cared for sitting by each other or anyone else.

In front of everyone were monitor screens, and they flashed blue when each user placed their handprint on the screen. A 3D model of the Big Shell structure appeared on the screen.

"As you can see, Shell 1 is comprised of a core with six struts surrounding - "

"We've heard this before," interrupted Max dryly. "Get to the weapons, I hate being unarmed."

The parrot ignored him. "Unlike in the last scenario, which provided a considerably more structured tutorial, there is no requirements as to where you have to guard, how many soldiers to command or if you wish to remain solitary, or even if you communicate with each other."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Zoe.

"There is no formalised structure. There is nothing you 'have' to do. There is no objective in this mission - besides staying alive."

"So we kill the enemy," answered Clara dryly. "Piece of cake now that we know about that secret passage from Strut E."

"The enemy will no longer be focusing on the secret door in B2, nor can it be triggered. The enemy's sole mission will be to eliminate all of you."

"No negotiation," said Max, turning to Grace. "This time don't get caught."

Grace became red in the face and was about to shout a string of epithets before Zoe laid a restraining, calming hand on her shoulder and talked her down from the ledge.

"You will all be given one million dollars in fictional currency to purchase weapons and equipment for yourself and any soldiers you choose to recruit - their skill level and training comes at a price, too."

"Do we get more money to spend when we kill the enemy?" asked Adam.

"No." replied the parrot. "This is the only time you'll get to spend it. After that, provisions such as ammunition will flow from Strut E depending on the strut's efficiency. Speaking of which, this will play a major factor in this simulation."

"Why?" asked Grace, who was the only one who didn't participate in combat and actively looked over Shell 1's controls.

"No longer does the enemy need to focus on B2. Their goal is attrition - if you can't eat, you can't live. I'm serious - you will be in this game until you die. If you die by their hand or through starvation, it's the same."

"How do we win, then?" asked Zoe, slightly unmoved. Surely that last part wasn't true.

"You must last seventy two hours in order to win. If the enemy cannot kill you by then, you win."

"I thought you said we'd die of hunger," remarked Max. "Nobody dies of hunger after only… two days."

"Three days," Clara corrected him. "But I suppose we'll be a bit famished."

"Any soldiers you recruit will not be aware of any objectives within this construct. If you allow the food to lapse, the drinking water dirty and the facilities not to work, they may riot."

"Like I said," Max replied. "We'll kill them all."

"That didn't work out well for Zoe," chortled Clara.

Zoe gave her a red-faced look. Clara deserved a slap.

"If you turn to your monitor…" said the parrot. Everyone complied.

The blue monitor showed a list of options:

NAME: Adam BALANCE: $1,000,000

  1. SELF



1.1 WEAPONS

1.2 EQUIPMENT

1.3 SPECIAL

  1. BODYGUARDS



2.1 SELECTION

"Wow," said Adam, quickly perusing the options.

"The strut soldiers are autonomous in their duties and will guard their patrol routes dutifully. They will start with an 80% loyalty to all commanders, while bodyguards possess a 90% loyalty rating towards their specific commanders." said the parrot.

NAME: Adam BALANCE: $1,000,000

  1. SELF | 1.1 WEAPONS



BASIC

M9

SOCOM

USP

MAKAROV

GLOCK

INTERMEDIATE

AK-74U

M4

SPAS-12

PSG1

HF BLADE

HEAVY

RBG6

NIKITA

STINGER

EXPLOSIVES

FRAG

STUN

CHAFF

CLAYMORE

Adam chose the semi automatic Glock pistol and the stun grenades.

"You'll fire all at once and use up all your ammo," scoffed Clara.

Clara chose the PSG1 sniper rifle, the USP pistol with a silencer attached and the claymore mines.

"You don't even know how to aim with a rifle," remarked Max. Clara ignored him.

Max chose the SPAS-12 shotgun, the Stinger missile launcher and the frag grenades.

"You've wasted almost all your money, and we haven't even got to soldiers yet," remarked Clara.

Zoe chose the HF Blade.

"Don't slash any of your soldiers! Ha-ha!" said Max.

Grace chose the M9 tranq pistol and the chaff grenades.

"I don't want a weapon!" said Grace. Adam had insisted she buy them as protection, plus they were the least expensive safety item there.

NAME: Clara BALANCE: $1,000,000

  1. SELF | 1.2 EQUIPMENT



BINOCULARS

BODY ARMOR

DIRECTIONAL MICROPHONE

MINE DETECTOR

NIGHT VISION GOGGLES

PENTAZEMIN

THERMAL GOGGLES

Max opted for the body armor. Adam insisted Grace buy it, but she didn't want to run any slower than she already did.

Clara opted for the pentazemin to steady her sniping aim and night vision goggles.

Max bought the thermal goggles and the mine detector.

NAME: Max BALANCE: $1,000,000

  1. SELF | 1.3 SPECIAL



RAIL GUN

EM DEVICE

STEALTH CAMO

POWER SUIT

"No fucking way!" yelled Max. Each of the items went for well over what he could afford.

Only Zoe and Grace could afford to buy one each.

Having bought the HF sword, the stealth camo would be a great buy - especially since it didn't run out of batteries. But Zoe wouldn't be able to afford anything else - certainly not a soldier or a strut. She purchased the stealth camo.

Grace was being yelled at on all sides. She looked at her balance, which had barely dropped at all. She couldn't buy the power suit, because she didn't want to be in combat. Same went for the rail gun. And with Zoe already got the stealth camo, which she would've chosen…

"What's the EM device?" asked Grace, regretting opening her mouth as a flurry of assurances flowed forth.

"It shields you from bullets and grenades, and missiles," said Adam.

Grace purchased the EM device. Max was visibly, noticeably, downright pissed off that he had missed his chance.

  1. BODYGUARDS | 2.1 SELECTION



SOLDIER

-AK74U

-MAKAROV

-FRAG GRENADES

REINFORCED SOLDIER

-SPAS-12

-BODY ARMOR

-STUN GRENADES

HIGH-TECH SOLDIER

-M4/GRENADE LAUNCHER

-HEAVY BODY ARMOR

TENGU COMMANDO

-P90

-HF BLADE

-EXOSKELETON

Each strut came with a number of soldiers appropriate to its size, so the soldiers that everyone chose to recruit out of this menu would form a complementary 'escort'.

Strut A had 5. Strut B had 3. Strut C had 3. Strut D had 3. Strut E had 5. Strut F had 4.

Each connecting bridge had 2.

Having missed out on his great opportunity, Max could only afford three reinforced soldiers.

"See?" scoffed Clara. "Why do you need to blow all your money so soon?"

Clara knew to be frugal, too. She purchased two high-tech soldiers.

"You're not any better!" Max shot back.

Adam bought four soldiers. He enjoyed the idea of bodyguards, but kept it cheap.

"They'll die before the game even starts," remarked Clara.

"Shut up, Clara," said Zoe.

Zoe bought one tengu commando. She had no more to spend. Wisely, Clara kept silent.

Grace didn't know what to buy.

"I don't need soldiers," she said. "I can't be killed."

"Not if someone gets close enough to shoot you up close," remarked Max enviously.

"Or uses a knife," remarked Adam, causing the unintended effect.

"Well," Grace looked first at the cost of the types of guards, then glanced at her account balance.

The EM device had taken more than three quarters of her money, but she could afford three tengu commandos, and purchased them. She too was practically broke.

"Now that you have purchased your weapons, equipment and complement of bodyguards, you are ready to proceed onto the Big Shell." said the parrot.

The 3D model of the Big Shell flashed onto the screen again.

"You have ten minutes before the simulation starts," said the parrot. "I advise you all: this is your last chance."

Grace gasped as the parrot burst into feathers, leaving nothing inside the gilded cage.

"So, what's the strategy?" asked Adam.

"Not dying," replied Clara curtly.

"Who's going to take over the struts?" asked Adam.

"I want to be on my own," said Max.

"Same," replied Zoe.

"I want to be in the computer room," said Grace. "But my guards should protect me this time!"

"We need to keep on track." said Adam. "We can't discuss all of this once we're in the simulation and we've got to fight enemies. We need to work out tactics now."

"I want the rail gun," mused Max. "And the EM device. Grace, give me yours."

"No!" shrieked Grace. "I paid all my money for it."

"Fake money," said Clara.

"you wouldn't have spend it on anything, anyway," scoffed Max. "I need all that extra money. What are you going to do with three Tengus?"

"not die," shot back Grace furiously.

"Stop fighting!" said Adam. "We need to discuss the struts. I'll take Strut A."

"Strut E," said Clara, who preferred the helipad for its view, and the packaging room because she had closer access the the ammunition.

"Strut F," Max finally caught on. "Because the weapons are there."

"What weapons?" said Clara. "The only thing we'll receive is ammunition; you heard the parrot."

"We need someone to look over at least one strut each," said Adam. "Strut B is for electricity, Strut C for dining hall…"

"I'll take Strut C, then," said Zoe. "Max only pissed his time away."

"He eats all the food, the fatty," mused Clara.

"So, Strut D, then," said Adam. "And Strut B. Who'll take them?"

"I guess I'll take Strut D," said Zoe.

When nobody else came forth, Adam agreed to take Strut B.

"What about Shell 1?" asked Clara, as the diagram expanded to show only the core.

"I'll look after Grace," Max smiled condescendingly at her. "She can go in B2."

"Yes," gushed Grace. "I don't want to go out of the computer room."

"What's the point of having the EM device if you won't face the enemy?" scoffed Clara, turning to face Grace. "That could help us win and you want to sit in some pisshole office while we're doing the hard work. Give it to me or Max, but don't sit there doing nothing."

Grace was beet red hearing Clara insult her to her face. She turned away amid Adam trying to prove her defence but Clara spun away from him on her swivel chair.

"Grace, I'll need you to set the same security clearances for the people and doors as before. Give the bodyguards the same access levels as the individuals they are guarding," said Adam.

"OK," said Grace, wiping her eyes.

"Wait," said Zoe, just as the simulation began to warp and distort. "Don't forget about that intruder from last time!"

Max

There was a bright flash of light and Max was standing on the EF connecting bridge, where he could easily reach Strut F and Shell 1, both of which he was responsible for.

Three reinforced soldiers flanked him, in golden camo with kevlar armor, SPAS-12 shotguns in their arms.

"Boss," they replied.

"Follow me," said Max, leading them into Strut F. He had to wait for the door to open, calling Grace in the process and waiting impatiently until finally he walked through.

The warehouse was a silent echo, empty hallways with soldiers in grey BDUs in contrast to personal bodyguard mercenaries, who wore golden BDU uniforms.

"Sir," the soldiers saluted as Max passed them. His retinue of three attack soldiers followed dutifully, glancing around the place to make sure it was secure.

Max leaned over the railing which showed the bottom floor of Strut F. There were a lot of packaging boxes and two soldiers patrolling underneath.

"Have any weapons come yet?" he turned to one of the soldiers.

"Your Stinger is in here." the guard showed Max to a room with a level-3 door, which slid open in Max's presence.

Ignoring the guard, Max walked in, noticing the large crate with the words STINGER stamped on the front. It was huge and heavy, doubtless difficult to carry around.

Max was equipped with a SPAS-12 and wore Kevlar body armor, same as his bodyguards.

He checked the ammo, saw that he had three magazines in his pocket and considered it sufficient. He also had three frag grenades on his belt for when things got messy.

He turned to the room of soldiers, who checked every nook and cranny while he was present but doubtless slacked off when he wasn't watching. He would have to keep an eye on them.

"How's the security?" asked Max.

"The strut is well guarded," said one soldier. "We have three soldiers on the top floor and two on the bottom."

"Right." said Max. "Carry on."

Clara

Clara spawned in Strut E, amidst the hustle and bustle of packages processing forth on the conveyor belt and snaked like a mechanical maze around the centre of the room. At either end were exits to the DE and EF connecting bridges, underneath an alcove was the staircase which lead to the helipad, and on the undiscovered side of the strut Clara found a staircase that led down somewhere. Clara approached it cautiously, wondering if this was the route that the intruder from last simulation might have used.

"Commander," came a voice from behind her. Clara turned her head and saw the two high-tech soldiers who formed her bodyguard unit. They wore full body Kevlar that padded their person and made them look bulky, with gleaming visor helmets to hide their face and both held M4 carbines with grenade launcher attachments. "Do you want us to search it?"

Clara shook her head. "Follow me, anyway, though."

She had in her possession a USP pistol with a silencer and flashlight attached, the latter of which she switched on as she descended into the depths of Strut E. Both high-tech guards flanked her; one in front and one in back. Clara thought briefly that they were very good to know to use formations even in safe territory.

The lower part of Strut E housed two doors and a number of disorganised cardboard boxes. She entered the first, where a small passage formed around a balcony shaft which dropped several feet to the water below and a watertight door to the right. The high-tech soldier at a nod from Clara twisted the handle tightly and cleared the space. It was empty but for a trapdoor which lead down a ladder to an oil bridge.

"Could the enemy come up this way?" asked Clara, though she knew the answer.

"If he swam for miles from the coast, he could climb the oil rig and get in," replied the other high-tech guard.

Clara turned to him and said, "Have one of the soldiers patrol this area regularly."

Next, she called Grace on her codec, 141.88.

"Hi, Clara," came the response, not as light hearted at it once was.

"There are two doors in Strut E I want you to lock with level-3 security. One has a shaft which the enemy could climb up and take us by surprise; the other is the packaging room where I think the intruder snuck into B2 using it last time."

"OK," came the defeated sigh, and Clara hung up.

Next, she called Max on 141.01.

"Yeah?"

"Is my sniper rifle there yet?" asked Clara.

"I'm not turning around again," complained Max. "You're close to Strut F. Go have a look yourself."

Clara shook her head in disgust and hung up. She checked the packaging room, which she soon noticed the door of which had changed to level-3, as well as the door to the hatch.

The packaging room had a conveyor belt where outgoing boxes were shipped. This had to have been where the intruder somehow rerouted the computer system to ship him in a crate to B2, thereby bypassing all the security functions.

The strut soldiers were autonomous, but now she was only in charge of her bodyguards. All commanders had authority over strut soldiers, but each to their own bodyguard units. Regardless, she would have to keep an eye on both. If provisions weren't met, their loyalty levels would decrease. She did not want a situation like last time. She called Zoe.

"Hey," said Clara.

"Hi," replied Zoe.

"Check that the soldiers have enough food, would you?" asked Clara, and hung up.

Zoe

Zoe looked at the radio in shock. She had been hung up on one too many times by that indifferent, superior bitch and she needed what was coming to her.

She crossed the BC connecting bridge, enjoying the brief tickle of waning sunlight on her freckled skin and passed the two soldiers who patrolled the bridge, unaware of her presence, cloaked in the stealth technology which hid her head to toe, but aroused their suspicion when they heard footsteps. She moved into Strut C, clinically clean with fluorescent lighting and white tiles paving a path on either side to gender-segregated bathrooms and cutting a path through the middle, past a patrolling guard, to where the mess hall and kitchen were.

She entered the women's bathroom, glad for not having bought any bodyguards. She didn't trust the presence of soldiers and was relieved to have the stealth device strapped to her belt. All she had to do was flip a switch and she was as invisible as air and light. Of course, she still had to practice being silent so she didn't alert anyone to her presence with her footsteps or breathing.

She exited the cubicle and washed her hands, listening to the toilet flush and, reminded of the parrot's warning about the struts' efficiency, she made a mental note to check that each was working properly. She did not have the luxury of peeing off a balcony if faculties were sabotaged.

Her HF blade was sheathed on her back, but when she drew it it glimmered in the cheap lighting from above. It was razor sharp, long with a grip handle and, with a bit of practice, she could get used to fighting with it. The only thing she couldn't do was deflect bullets with it, a trick that would make her practically invincible. She called Grace on 141.88 to check how she was faring and reinforce their friendship.

Adam

Atop Strut A where the last remnants of the sunrise fell into place, Adam stood on the elevator as his four bodyguards filed in around him. The visor gates slid shut and the elevator slowly descended into the mechanical, vault-like shaft.

His bodyguard soldiers were similar to the strut soldiers, except his wore gold BDUs. They had the same amount of training, but higher initial loyalty and with four, Adam resolved he had made a good choice. He chose quantity of guards to protect him over quality. That, and he enjoyed the protective company.

The elevator arrived and Adam stepped out, followed by his entourage. One of the strut guards who patrolled the lower section saluted him. "Sir," he said.

"How is the patrol?" asked Adam, approaching the node terminal and placing his handprint.

"Nothing to report," replied the soldier dutifully.

"Where is the other soldier?" asked Adam.

"He's in the adjoining room, past the corridor on the other side of the room."

The node terminal detailed the Strut A's efficiency values. It showed that the pump system for treating safe water and flushing bodily waste and sewage was functioning properly, that the survelliance terminal in Strut A was recording suspect movement by cameras placed accordingly outside the Shell 1 core, and that the elevator connecting the upper and lower levels of Strut A was working fine.

Adam moved away from the terminal, walking past the soldier and across the room, through the corridor and into the submarine lab. Suspended over a pool of water in the centre of the room was a yellow submarine, with a few lockers and an insect infestation from a broken gutter.

"Water bugs," said one of Adam's bodyguards, stamping his boot into them.

"Sir!" said the strut guard, turning around, surprised to see them.

"What do we have here?" asked Adam, motioning to the submarine.

"It's in case of emergency, sir. An escape protocol."

Adam moved to the water, glancing down at the tiny bubbles that filled the seemingly endless shaft below.

"Could an enemy get through here?" he asked, of nobody in particular.

"It'd be difficult to swim. They'd need a lot of oxygen, and tools to break the wire netting that shields the access. But it's possible."

I turned to the strut soldier who patrolled the room. "Keep a close eye on this place. You are to report any discrepancies or misgivings to me immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Adam wondered if it was wise to have this room locked with level-3 security and have the guard posted elsewhere. But he didn't know whether or not the enemy possessed the tools to either hack or destroy the door. Better to keep the guard here, where he could at least shoot at any incoming enemy… he couldn't lock this guard in, either. He'd need to have a break and be relieved at some point. And Adam couldn't grant him level-3 access. If the enemy got hold of a level-3 PAN card, he'd be able to access almost every area in Shell 1.

"As you were," nodded Adam, and the soldier complied. The bodyguards followed their commander dutifully, keeping a close watch on things as they proceeded.

Grace

Grace sat in the B2 computer room, surrounded by banks of computers with swivel chairs in front of them. She stood from her own and consulted the Tengu who stood loyally by her side.

"You can have a break, you know," she joked. "There's nothing much happening around here."

The Tengu was outfitted to the extreme - an exoskeleton embedded in the built in kevlar which aided body movement, a sheathed sword over his shoulder, and a mask through which he could be incapacitated by breathing in deadly toxins. He held a P90 rifle.

He shook his head and said something to the effect that as the only soldier who could access B2, it would be insubordinate of him to abandon the only person he had to protect.

"OK," mumbled Grace, though she mused she didn't mind the company, despite the eerie gas-mask voice he had to talk using.

She had set up security protocols for the entire Big Shell much the same way she had in the last situation, with a few exceptions. The store cupboard in Strut C, hatch and packaging rooms in Strut E and weaponry, ammunition and equipment rooms in Strut F had level-3 access, only to be entered by commanders and their bodyguard units.

Shell 1 access was level-2, so only core soldiers could come and go, not that they needed to. Access to the elevator was granted by surveillance camera at Grace's discretion, where it took passengers to either B1 - where a retinal scanner protected the inner sanctum where commanders would sleep - or B2, locked with level-3 access and not patrolled by core soldiers in case of a mutiny. They had all learned that from last time.

Grace's M9 lay discarded on the desk, along with a number of chaff grenades. During a lull in the proceedings where it became clear Grace had no combat skills whatsoever, the Tengu offered to train her in use with the M9.

"That's what you're here to protect me against," she smiled, but the Tengu shook his head and insisted she take the pistol.

He showed her how to turn the safety off, how to load a magazine clip and check that it was inserted properly. After firing a blank shot, he explained how to click back the trigger after each round.

"That's silly," said Grace. "What if I'm under attack?"

A tranq pistol wasn't the ideal firearm to use in combat, the Tengu explained, and besides, it would only knock them unconscious, not kill them. They moved into the hallway, where they stood at opposite ends.

"You want me to shoot you?" Grace asked, gobsmacked. "Is this your way of getting a break early? I put you to sleep so your excuse is my fault?"

He shook his head, drawing his sword and assuring Grace he would not 'rush her' with it.

Hesitantly, Grace raised the pistol and took aim. She fired, but the Tengu didn't move an inch.

"Wow," said Grace, trying to click the hammer back into place. "You moved so fast. How did you cut the bullet in time?"

"I didn't," replied the deadpan Tengu. "You missed."

James

As a covert operative, James's task was significantly harder. He no longer had access to the electronic card which allowed him to hack into computer devices, and his objective would be near impossible to complete as stealthily as his last mission: to kill the five commanders in seventy-two hours.

However, he was able to purchase some equipment that would aid him in his mission. He selected an anti-personnel sensor and mine detector, both of which emitted passive signals which picked up heartbeat signals and explosive components. He would receive an alert on his codec which would increase in frequency as he got closer, or the enemy did.

He would be wearing a sneaking suit, which compressed body temperature and kept his stamina high, which was his main focus. For all his strategy and tactics, physically he could not compete at a normal level, which was why stealth suited him just fine.

However, to compensate for his deficiency in his metabolism, he paid all his initial balance into buying a special ability not available to the others - CQC. Yes - at the expense of not buying any weapons, he was relying on close-quarters combat in order to get him through the Big Shell.

Having developed a working knowledge of the Big Shell during the last simulation, James was aware of the structural efficiencies in place. Unlike last time, where he had the element of surprise, his adversaries were aware of the tactics he used in order to slip past multitudes of guards, scam the commanders into making his entry easier and taking care of both Max and Grace in order to access the emergency exit.

He looked at the 3D model presented to him on the display. He could dive from the shore and ascend the oil rig near Strut E, or cut through the wire netting underneath Strut A. The problem was if his adversaries had locked off both of these points. If he ascended via Strut E, they could lock him in a room until they came to deal with him. The same could occur with Strut A, but he would have a larger space to deal with. Both options could have soldiers posted there, something he was not willing to risk.

He had the option of flying in with a deployment of NAVY seals, but that would be harder. It was visible and could contain casualties if it was blown out of the sky. He would have to think this over.

Max

With Strut F under his control, he moved on to the core of Shell 1. He crossed the EF connecting bridge and was surprised to see Clara walking towards him, two high-tech soldiers flanking either side. In comparison to his three shotgun-wielding, Kevlar-vested bodyguards, Clara's wore thickly padded Kevlar, held carbine rifles and dome helmets.

"Max," said Clara coolly. She didn't glance at his bodyguards.

She moved past him and Max continued on to the Shell 1 core without a glance at his sister. The soldier stationed outside the door saluted him through the level-2 access door.

Inside the core the air was stiller, quiet. A survelliance camera swiveled above his head as he turned a corridor into the wraparound hallway that formed the core's first floor. There were two guards on either side of the hallway and one who remained in front of the elevator.

"Sir," remarked the soldier, pressing the call button for Max.

Max stood near the camera and glanced up at it with a rueful glance. The doors slid open a few seconds later, and Max boarded the elevator, his bodyguards filing in also.

He pressed the B1 button and arrived in a matter of seconds. The B1 floor held a hallway which on the right held a few abandoned lockers and packaging boxes, and to the left snaked past the retinal scanner where the commander's living quarters were and to a mess hall for the core's soldiers to take time off and relax inbetween their shifts.

He would've visited Grace, but he felt no need to engage her in conversation of any sort. She had the EM device - he needed it. Without it, he was just a crazed maniac with a lot of firearms. If he had it, he could take out any enemy he wanted…

Clara

After checking that her PSG1 sniper rifle was secure under level-3 access in Strut F, Clara was in the kitchen of Strut C, accessing the pantry locked with level-3 access and putting some instant noodles in the microwave. She set the timer on the LED screen for two minutes, then headed down the hallway to use the bathroom before she ate.

Her two high-tech bodyguards followed her dutifully, always one in front and one behind. She felt distinctly protected, though the USP sidearm helped her conscience if she was ever to rely on herself. She passed one of the strut soldiers who patrolled the corridor, barely armed compared to her bodyguards, and was promptly stopped by one of them when she walked into the bathroom.

"I'll clear it for you," he said.

"There's nobody in there," she replied.

Clara refused their admonitions and entered, but more aware of the possible threat. They agreed to wait outside and make sure nobody but commanders entered while she was present. All cubicle doors were open, but still, she checked each one before locking herself in the one at the far end.

She remembered that the enemy had arrived by Kasatka chopper last time, and made a mental note to alert her Strut E soldiers atop the helicopter to keep an eye out.

Adam

Adam entered Strut A, entering the command area and glancing up at the bank of monitors. It was here that the surveillance cameras automatically reported intrusions and sent an alert to the B2 computer room.

"Sir," reported the soldier. "Nothing to report."

Adam moved past him towards the pump room, locked with level-2 access. It was a twisting maze of pipes which flushed sewage and purified water for drinking and washing.

He exited and took the stairs to the top level, where darkness had blanketed Shell 1. It was a cloudless, starry night, with nary a neighbor nor a sound to be heard besides the footsteps of the lone guard who patrolled nearby and saluted upon seeing his commander.

"As you were," said Adam.

He glanced up at the sky, unconsciously feeling for the Glock in its holster. His four bodyguards watched aimlessly.

"Sir?" asked one.

Adam turned in surprise, then stepped closer to the balcony and dialed Grace on her codec.

"Hi, Adam," she answered resignedly.

"What are the patrol routes for the soldiers in Shell 1?" he asked.

After being informed as to their routes, he thanked Grace and added in the other commanders in a multi-call.

"What?" asked Clara, bored.

"Yeah?" came Max's reply.

"Yes?" asked Zoe.

"I think that the soldiers should have to provide status reports every five minutes to Grace. She will log their codec numbers, positions and times. That way, we can account for every single soldier, the routes they cover, what they've been doing, and if it was in a timely manner. If we account for discrepancies this way, we will have a better chance of finding the enemy."

"Fine," said Clara, disconnecting.

"What if the enemy gets a hold of a radio?" asked Max.

"He won't know to provide a status report on what time. Nor will he know the codec to respond to."

"That's a good idea," said Zoe.

"Pfft," replied Max. "The sooner we kill the enemy, the better."

"You man your station, I'll man mine," said Zoe.

"You don't have any soldiers," scoffed Max, then hung up.

Zoe hung up promptly after, without a further word.

"Are you there?" asked Grace tentatively. "We're not going to yell at each other like last time, are we?"

"I hope not," said Adam with sincerity. "Keep up the good work, Grace."

Zoe

More than an hour had passed since the takeover. Everybody had settled into their routines. Zoe had visited each strut to ensure that the soldiers were performing their duties. It was her prerogative to ensure that there was no maltreatment or mutiny happening on her watch. She had experienced it first hand last time, and had no desire to repeat any of it.

Her stealth camouflage worked like a charm. If she wanted to be silent, all she had to do was stand still and switch on the device. She had stared a guard straight in the face, rested her sword above his shoulder and he hadn't so much as flinched. He was completely unaware. Of course, when she realised that any sudden, clumsy movement on her part might startle the guard into shooting her before she could step aside had stopped that little practice quite suddenly.

She saw that the strategy of radioing in every five minutes for the soldiers made quite an effect on morale. Of course they got irritated, but then there was no way to guarantee that the enemy would show up guns blazing. The intruder from last time had snuck in with nobody knowing, so it was imperative that everybody keep alert.

The corridors were silent but for the footsteps of soldiers, and it gave Zoe more that a sense of warmth that she could hide in the shadows. She held her blade tightly in her hand, watching round every corner. It had been explained to her, as to them all, of the entry points one might gain access into Shell 1, but even though all of these were routinely guarded and locked under level-3 access where possible, she kept her guard up.

Grace

Two hours in, Grace glanced up to see Zoe enter quietly by her side. The Tengu watched her out of the corner of his eye as Zoe suggested she take a break and take over for a while.

"Are you sure?" asked Grace blearily. She had quickly tired of answering radio reports every five minutes.

"Go for it. Have you had a chance to use the bathroom?" asked Zoe.

"Barely," replied Grace, who had a sudden urge to pee. "Thanks."

After using the bathroom - the Tengu never left her side for a moment, insisting that he wait at the door, which she found companionable and didn't at all object to - she headed up the steps and pressed the call button for the elevator. She and the Tengu stepped on board, pressing the B1 button.

The doors slid open and Grace walked down the corridor, past the patrolling guard and to the retinal scanner, where another soldier stood guard.

"Miss," he replied, for she possessed no combat skills.

"Excuse me," said Grace, and the guard stepped aside.

Grace leaned in to the retinal scanner and felt her eyes itch as her retinas were scanned.

"Access granted," intoned the computerised voice, and the door slid open.

The Tengu made sure that the door was closed before he let down his guard. Now they were alone in the room. It was a meeting room, but the tables and chairs had been pushed against the walls to make room for several fleece-lined sleeping bags. There was a self-contained kitchen with a mini fridge, a door which lead to the single toilet and shower, and a command room from which one could view the surveillance of the Big Shell, but not change any settings or grant access like the B2 computer room could.

She politely asked the Tengu to let her know to wake her up if anybody needed her or if they were suddenly under attack, and curled up in a sleeping bag in the clothes she was wearing.

James

He burst from the water with a gasp of pleasure. The night was still and the air fresh as he removed his scuba mask and disengaged his oxygen tank. Above him, like endless spires from where he swam, a minnow in the ocean, stood the struts of Shell 1.

He began to slowly scale the strut, wearing a sneaking suit which modulated his body temperature and kept movement sound to a minimum. There was a scout knife sheathed on his chest, a holstered Makarov in case things got messy and his always reliable CQC - close quarters combat - skills.

He was near the top of one of the struts now, and continued to climb underneath the connecting bridge, listening intently for the breathing and footsteps of the soldiers above. He counted two of them. As he was about to scale the side, he paused when one took a big sigh and said,

"Time for the status report."

"I swear it doesn't change," said the other. "What are they thinking, every five minutes? Our radios will run out of battery from too much use."

"I don't know what they're thinking," agreed the first, in a conspiratorial tone.

They dialed an unknown number on their codecs, said "Nothing to report" just as James set his stopwatch at five minutes. He climbed onto the side of the bridge and peeked over the railing just as both soldiers parted ways, heading for either strut at each end of the bridge. From the T-shape of the connecting bridge, James could tell he was on the BC connecting bridge, and managed to throw himself over silently in the middle, staring at both soldier's departing backs on either side. The third prong of the bridge lead across to the Shell 1 core, but he knew that it would locked beyond even these soldier's access levels.

James slowly sidled up to the soldier walking towards Strut C, pickpocketing the PAN card without the soldier even noticing. He vaulted over the railing and hid underneath the bridge as the soldier headed dutifully back, towards the centre where he continued on to Strut B, while the other soldier patrolled the prong of the bridge which lead to Shell 1.

This was his chance. James made a quick peek to check that the coast was clear, climbed the railing and landed back on the bridge, then approached the door to Strut C.

It opened automatically in his presence, but he was quick to flatten against the corner and manage a careful peek. On the left and right sides were entrances to the men's and women's bathrooms, respectively. In the middle ran a long hallway, down which he spotted the back of a soldier, chatting amicably with a comrade who was just outside his field of vision, apparently on break in the mess hall.

James turned on the anti-personnel sensor attached to his belt and slipped into the strut, the harsh flourescent light from above doing him no favours. By some stroke of luck the soldier in the hallway did not notice him, and James entered the men's bathroom cautiously, not picking up any vibrations from his AP sensor, which fluctuated in frequency to human heartbeats that were within close range.

The bathroom had two hand basins above a large mirror, two cubicle stalls and urinals divided by partitions. James locked himself in one of the cubicles, sat on the toilet and tucked his knees out of sight - his boots were different from the soldiers, in case one decided to look under to see if it was occupied - and waited patiently.

His stopwatch stopped at five minutes, then he set it again. Three times of this, then finally he heard footsteps. His anti-personnel buzzed like a bee. It was more than one person.

"... don't bother," came the casual reply. "I've got my shotgun."

Four sets of footsteps entered the bathroom. James didn't dare peek underneath the cubicle door, but stiffened when he heard the cubicle door next to his stay open as the occupant audibly sighed as he pissed into the toilet. He heard footsteps on his left and could note the discrepancy in the type of boots worn. The commander and one of his bodyguards took the two urinals, presumably one of the soldiers had taken the cubicle, and the remaining had stayed near the door to guard it.

"Come on," said the commander, quite jovial and indifferent, loudly enough to talk to the soldier at the door. "Just take a piss."

The soldier obeyed, knocking on the cubicle door James sat in. He slowly drew his Makarov. If it came to a firefight, they would all be dead in seconds. But it would destroy the element of surprise to have gunshots sound throughout the corridors.

"Hurry up, man," said the soldier, peeking underneath the door. "Hey, there's not even anyone in there.

James glanced up in horror when he saw a pair of hands grip the top of the cubicle, hoisting himself up to look -

"Ah, come on," said the commander. "Share mine."

James shook his head in disgust.

"Nah, I'm good thanks," replied the soldier. "Here, Jimmy's done, I'll take his."

With a certain amount of reluctance, James bet, the soldier took the urinal next to the commander.

"We'll wait outside," said the commander, who didn't hide the scepticism in his voice.

Three sets of footsteps left the bathroom, one the commander and two his bodyguards.

The anti-personnel sensor was vibrating, picking up one heartbeat in close vicinity.

This was his chance. He slowly eased the door open, ears alert for the spray of liquid against the porcelain urinal, James drew a length of fibre wire from his pocket and pulled tightly against the soldier's neck.

Urine sprayed everywhere but stopped quickly as James held his grip firm, so tightly that the soldier had no breath with which to utter a cry. James's AP sensor vibrated even harder upon detecting a second heartbeat, and he held his breath as the commander's voice came in louder, speaking but not seeing, "Come on, now! I'm hungry. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

Blessedly alone, James broke the guard's neck with one final hoist and let him slump to the floor, quite dead. He looked down at the soldier, unstrapping the Kevlar vest, the SPAS-12 shotgun slung around his neck and the BDU, leaving him in his underwear. He dragged the soldier into the cubicle he had left open, sat him upon the toilet with his head and limbs hanging limply, and forced his back against the cistern. James set the guard's feet astride the toilet, so that if anyone looked underneath they would see someone using it.

James changed out of his sneaking suit and put on the golden BDU, strapped on the Kevlar and picked up the SPAS-12. Now he was one of Max's bodyguards.

He walked out of the bathroom, gave a quick nod to the soldier who patrolled in the hallway and received a curt "Hi" in return. James was careful to adopt an alert pose.

When he entered the mess hall, he spotted several mercenaries eating lunch at tables scattered about the room. The commander and his two bodyguards were in the kitchen, laughing at some inside joke one had just told.

"Finally," said the commander, grinning. He was an inch shorter than James, with cruel eyes that seemed to miss nothing. His white, pockmarked skin was pulled over harsh features and over his Kevlar vest he held a SPAS-12 shotgun with several frag grenades at his side. "Let's go."

James followed beside the bodyguards, who didn't seem alert. They seemed at ease in their commander's presence.

Max

Max departed Strut C and crossed the BC connecting bridge to Shell 1. The door opened automatically in his presence and he continued past the surveillance camera swiveling above his head, down the hallway guarded by two soldiers who took note of his Kevlar-vested guards and wished they could wear bulletproof vests.

Max turned the corner, called the button for the elevator and looked up into the surveillance camera. To his great surprise, his codec buzzed and he answered a call from Zoe.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I'm visiting Grace," he said. "What are you doing calling me?"

"I'm taking over her shift," said Zoe. "She's sleeping."

"In B1?" asked Max.

There was a pause.

"What do you want?" she repeated.

"I'm visiting Grace." he grinned. "Let me in."

The elevator doors slid open and Max smiled to himself. This was going to be easier than expected.

Clara

Clara collected her ammunition for her USP from the latest shipment, checking via the node in Strut E that there were equal amounts of AK-74 ammunition being sent to each strut, further filtered by how many soldiers were in each strut. She had to admit there was a depressing logic to Adam's enforced rigidity - it made planning so much easier, and more sense in the long run to do things more economically this way.

Twice she had checked on her PSG1. She wanted to practice with it, especially if there was a Kasatka in this simulation - her last. She would shoot the pilot and the chopper would go down in flames.

Her high-tech soldiers waited obediently outside. They dwarfed the mercenaries by comparison and were more heavily fortified than Max's bodyguards, but it was the Tengu that Clara was interested to meet. She knew they could jump like frogs, deflect bullets with their swords and pack a hefty punch when threatened. Grace would be well protected, notwithstanding the EM device which made bullets and grenades useless against her.

She exited the room which contained her PSG1 and walked down the hallway, checking empty room after empty room until she reached the last one, where a soldier stood stiffly outside, watching as she approached. Clara noticed that the door he was guarding was not opening automatically, so it had to be locked with a level-3 access protocol that his tawdry level-1 PAN card couldn't open. This was the room with Max's Stinger in it.

"Move aside," said Clara, adding on a "please" when he didn't respond.

"My commander's asked me not to let anyone inside," replied the soldier stoutly.

Clara gave a scoff of disapproval. "Max thinks he runs the place. He's an idiot. Move aside, now."

The soldier obstinately refused. Clara arched an eyebrow. She hesitated to draw her pistol, in case Max had given the soldier orders to shoot on entry. Besides, he was holding his AK and Clara's was in her holster. She would be shot before she tried.

She took a sudden impulse and kicked the soldier in the crotch, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his grip on the rifle. Several strut soldiers turned around in shock.

Clara pushed him to the ground, where he lay gasping. She stepped over him and the door opened in her presence. Her high-tech bodyguards kept a close eye on the crumpled soldier and kept a wary eye on the strut soldiers who went back to their patrols.

Clara saw that there was nothing in the room to suggest Max was hiding anything. Indeed, there was only the Stinger missile launcher. Why would he set a soldier to guard the room? The level-3 access meant that nobody could get in besides commanders. Did he suspect foul play among his own friends?

Clara walked back into the corridor, where the soldier lay gasping and the high-tech soldiers nodded at her presence. She swept the area with her gaze, then looked down at the fallen soldier.

"Why did my brother ask you to guard this room?" she demanded.

"I-I'm not telling you any-thing," he choked. "B-bitch."

Clara arched an eyebrow. "Disarm him."

While her bodyguards relieved the offending soldier off his weapons, Clara turned to the room at large, where one soldier patrolled the upper walkways and two more did so on in the storage room below. How could she guarantee their loyalty?

"Watch the door," commanded Clara, and her bodyguards did so. "Don't let this bastard get up."

She retreated into the room, where the door closed solidly behind her. It was cool, calm and silent. She dialed Adam on her codec and cast an appraising eye over the crate which held the Stinger.

"Hello?" answered Adam.

"We may have a problem," said Clara. "I came into Strut F and one of the soldiers refused me access to the room that has Max's Stinger in it."

"Well, that's not surprising," said Adam. "Any one of the soldiers might use it for their own - "

"The room was locked with level-3 access, Adam," interrupted Clara, with a sigh of disdain. "The soldier was there to make sure we didn't gain access."

"What a fool," said Adam, after a moment's silence. "How was he supposed to protect it? We all have numerous, highly trained bodyguards."

"I don't know what Max's planning," said Clara grimly. "But I'm going to find out."

"What did you do with the soldier? The one who refused you access?"

Clara turned to the closed door. "He's down for the count. My bodyguards are watching him."

"Keep an eye out," warned Adam. "The other soldiers in Strut F may not take kindly to - "

"Fuck. They'll turn, won't they?" said Clara in alarm.

"Do you want me to come over as backup?"

"No," said Clara stubbornly. "But how do I guarantee their loyalty?"

"Ask them to shoot their comrade," said Adam. "It's the only way."

"What if they shoot me?" asked Clara uncertainly.

"That's what you've got bodyguards for. Let them know a revolt may happen. How many soldiers are left in Strut F?"

"Three," replied Clara. "They're only mercenaries, though."

"Kill the ones who refuse. After all, they're loyal to us. They have to do as we say."

"And if they don't? We can't leave Strut F undefended."

"We'll deal with that when it comes. If they all turn out to be bad eggs, I'll send some of my bodyguard units to patrol Strut F."

"OK." said Clara. "Here goes."

She disconnected and walked out into the hallway. One high-tech soldier had his rifle aimed at the injured soldier; the other glanced up as she came into his field of vision.

She addressed the room at large. "All soldiers in Strut F. Come over here."

There was some grumbling, then the two soldiers from below began to climb the stairs. The soldier on the other side of the room began to slowly make his way around the upper landing. Clara drew her USP and beckoned to her high-tech soldiers to lean in close.

"Max's loyalty is in question. We need to ascertain the loyalty of these men. I'm going to ask them one by one to shoot their comrade as a show of devotion. They may revolt. If so, shoot them without question."

They both nodded. They approved of their commander's tough, no-nonsense attitude.

The three strut soldiers filed in. All wore grey BDUs, held AKs slung around their neck and stared at Clara from within the black balaclavas which hid their faces.

"It has come to my attention that my brother has ordered you to do things which supercede his authority. His actions have led me to question your loyalties. Are you with him, or with all of us?"

"We take orders from him," said one soldier, reluctantly. "He's our commander."

"My brother is an idiot, and the only reason you like him is because he goes into battle not caring whether or not he dies. You may look up to him, but you will not refuse me or any other commander."

There was a palpable silence, then Clara gestured to the fallen soldier.

"This dickhead chose to insult me. For that, he must pay. For you lot, this means declaring your loyalty. Make him stand against the wall."

One of her bodyguards hoisted the disarmed soldier to his feet, forcing him against the wall where he stood weakly, at gunpoint. The other bodyguard kept a close eye on the strut soldiers.

"You will prove your loyalty to me, and to the other commanders. On three, you will raise your rifles and shoot this traitor."

There was an uncomfortable silence, infinitesimal movement on the part of the strut soldiers who stared back in shock.

"You're kidding," muttered one. "You want us to kill our comrade because he was following orders?"

"He overstepped his authority," repeated Clara, who began to feel uncertain.

"That's your problem, not ours. We don't have to prove anything," said the soldier.

Clara's blood chilled. She became uncomfortably aware that the strut soldiers held their grip on their rifles, where she was only backed up by one of her bodyguards, the other with his rifle raised to the traitor. What was she to do?

"I repeat," ordered Clara, her voice faltering. "You will shoot this man or you will be declared traitors. One… two… "

Adam

"OK," Adam listened to Clara's voice on the other end. "Here goes."

He was met by the dial tone. He wondered in horror what was going over there.

"Follow me," he instructed of his four bodyguards who were settled around the control room inside Strut A. He had given them a short break while he perused the screens above, displaying the live feeds from surveillance cameras dotted around Shell 1.

He strode out of the office partitions, past the strut soldier who saluted in his presence and exited onto the FA connecting bridge.

"Everything OK, sir?" asked one of his bodyguards, all of whom had gathered the gist of what was going on.

"One of the commanders may be in trouble," said Adam, nodding brusquely to the two bridge soldiers who passed one another, patrolling the length of the bridge. "I'll need you to follow my orders very carefully."

He reached the other side and entered Strut F. He made his way past a door that opened to reveal a room full of M9 tranquilizer ammo and held steady near the corner, which lead to a hallway opening to the upper balcony. If he peeked around it, he could see Clara flanked by one of her bodyguards. The other high-tech soldier held his rifle to a strut soldier, who looked to be limping of a sort. The three strut soldiers had just assembled by Clara.

"... kill our comrade just because he was following orders?" asked one strut soldier. The trio shuffled uncomfortably.

"He overstepped his authority," said Clara firmly. She held her USP by her side.

"That's your problem, not ours," said the soldier. "We don't have to prove anything."

There was silence, and Adam whispered low to his strut soldiers,

"Take positions across the hallway. The moment these soldiers turn on Clara, shoot them."

One bodyguard remained to cover Adam and another made sure there were no surprises from the FA connecting bridge. Two ducked over the hallway to take covering positions, discreetly aiming rifles over stacks of boxes to hold position.

"I repeat," came Clara's voice, clear over the room. "You will shoot this man or you will be declared traitors. One…"

Adam's bodyguards readied themselves. Three chose a particular strut soldier. The fourth stayed firm outside Strut F to make sure nobody interfered. Adam drew his Glock, ready to fire.

"Two - "

There was sudden movement and Clara gasped in pain as one of the strut soldiers bashed her in the face with the butt of his rifle. Gunfire came from all directions - the two strut soldiers fired on Clara's high-tech bodyguards - while Adam's bodyguards fired at the strut soldiers. Everyone on the other side of the room was hit, besides the lone, unarmed soldier who hit the ground running.

"Cover me!" shouted Adam, running into the fray with his Glock aimed.

He did not see what direction the unarmed soldier had run in, nor where he might be hiding, so he kept a careful eye as he advanced to where the shootout had occured, while his bodyguards backed him up and cleared every space.

Clara was on the ground, clutching her nose with blood on her hands; the three strut soldiers lay slumped, bullets riddling their BDUs amid a dark stain on the floor; one of the high-tech guards had been shot through the helmet and was fading quickly; the other bodyguard had caught the shots in his vest, safe but in great shock.

"Are you alright?" asked Adam, who stood over Clara and checked every spare avenue.

He ordered three of his bodyguards to "cover the three exits" and the fourth to "search the strut". Clara stood with difficulty, blood streaming down her face.

"He might be on the bridges by now," she gasped in pain.

Adam multi-called the soldiers on the EF and FA connecting bridges. They answered quickly.

"Is there a soldier running loose on your bridges?" he demanded.

"No, sir," came the unanimous reply. "Two of us on the bridge."

With two guards per EF/FA bridge, he assigned one to the entrances of Strut A/E and the other to fully search the bridge they were on. If they discovered a rogue soldier, they were to shoot on sight. They were to let any commanders pass, but to inform Adam immediately without arousing their suspicion.

"He's still inside, then," said Adam, after disconnecting. "I hate this doublespeak."

"They revolted," said Clara in disgust. She kicked one of the corpses.

Adam went over to the high-tech soldier to give him assistance, but he shook his head.

"Exit secure!" his three bodyguards radioed in via codec. "No sign of him yet," radioed in the fourth.

The high-tech soldier ambled to his feet, clutching his M4 to his chest. Clara held her USP.

"We'll help search," she said.

Adam joined his bodyguard in the search upstairs, while Clara went downstairs with her high-tech bodyguard. The room was silent, but for the footsteps of the searching parties.

Three of the five rooms on the upper landing had been cleared, including the one housing Max's Stinger. From the upper landing, Adam could see Clara and the high-tech guard proceeding cautiously -

"Clear," came the call from the FA bridge. "Clear," a few seconds later, from the EF bridge. "Return to your positions," Adam ordered, and disconnected.

Cautiously, Adam and his bodyguard cleared the fourth room, and then the fifth. The silence in the corridors was eerie; deafening. Where the hell was he hiding?

The upper landing was clear, but Adam's bodyguard did a second sweep. Two of his bodyguards remained in position at the exits to the EF and FA bridges; the third stood at the balcony overlooking the lower landing, where he aimed his rifle at the lower exit to the FA bridge and could see the action from below.

"Upper landing clear," whispered Adam, multi-dialing Clara and her remaining bodyguard. "I'm double-checking every room."

"Roger," replied the bodyguard. "OK," Clara whispered back, disconnecting.

Adam leaned over the balcony cautiously, opposite to his third bodyguard. He quickly dialed Clara.

"What?" she answered, pissed.

"There are two rooms by the lower exit to the FA bridge - "

"So? Stop calling! He'll hear us!"

"There's an air vent that connects them. Don't enter one without searching the other."

"Right," she disconnected.

Adam watched as Clara and her bodyguard made their way across the room and out of sight. He manuevered round to where his third bodyguard stood guard, and followed the corridor down to where he took the stairs to the lower level. Packaging crates were piled high, and he could see how clearing this area was a bitch. He caught sight of the two rooms opposite each other just as Clara and her bodyguard entered one apiece; their weapons drawn. This had to be where the soldier was hiding. Adam moved closer to the two doors, where his fourth bodyguard nodded near the exit to the FA bridge, his rifle ready.

Adam readied his Glock, made his way up to the two doors, and chose the one that Clara had entered. He stepped forward and the door opened automatically, and he raised his Glock as he entered. It had a small kitchenette, several sets of lockers and many crates stacked on top of each other. Immediately he saw Clara's back turned, reaching for the handle of a locker as she aimed her USP, ready to fire if anybody was hidden inside.

At the instant Adam entered, he saw motion out of the corner of his eye - the unarmed soldier burst from behind the packaging crates, arms outstretched for Clara's turned back. Adam held his finger on the trigger, firing a series of rounds which riddled the soldier's body in an instant and sent him sprawling to the ground, twitching lifelessly.

Clara stared at the corpse, lowering her USP. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch," Adam shrugged.

The high-tech guard entered a moment later, rifle poised. "Shit." he said. "I should've gone with you."

"It doesn't matter," replied Clara dryly. She had resumed her icy facade. "They're all dead now."

Adam multi-called his bodyguards. "We've killed the last soldier. Regroup on the upper landing."

"First Zoe, then Max," muttered Clara. "Can't anyone keep a hold on their men?"

"I'm going to have Grace lock Strut F under level-3 access." said Adam, trying to reach Grace on her codec. "She's not responding. I'm calling Zoe."

"Yeah?" answered Zoe on her codec.

"We have a situation. Max's soldiers in Strut F tried to kill Clara. We've killed them all, but we lost one of Clara's bodyguards."

"What?" asked Zoe in shock.

"I tried to reach Grace, but - "

"She's asleep in B1," said Zoe, then gasped in horror. "Are you telling me Max's gone rogue?"

"It seems like it," said Adam grimly.

"Fuck!" shouted Zoe. "He said he was going to visit Grace."

"You let him on the elevator?" shouted Clara, audible through Adam's codec.

"Tell the soldiers in B1 to take Max down!" yelled Adam.

Zoe disconnected without a further word.

Zoe

It had only been seconds after Zoe had let Max board the elevator that Adam's call had come through informing her of the dire situation. It shocked her that Max had rebelled. He may not be one for common sense, but he was devastating with explosives.

Her hands flew across the keyboard as she brought up the list of soldiers currently reporting on break in B1. She multi-dialed their numbers in a conference call, four in total.

"This is an order from commanders Zoe, Clara and Adam," said Zoe. "Max is on his way in the elevator - "

"I just passed him in the corridor," said one.

"Sir?" came another voice, and Zoe heard Max's voice clearly ask, "Who's calling  _ you _ ?"

"Arrest him," shouted Zoe. "You are ordered to kill Max and his men at once!"

James

Barely a minute beforehand, the elevator arrived at B1 and Max and his bodyguards stepped out. James formed part of the protective entourage. The hallway they stepped out onto led on the right to a room filled with an assortment of lockers and crates, currently perused by one shell soldier. They turned left onto a corridor where another soldier guarded a closed door with a mechanism attached which James recognised as a retinal scanner.

"Excuse me, sir," said the soldier, answering his radio. "Boss."

"Boss," came three more voices; one from the hallway to the right and two from inside the break room. They all seemed to be answering their radio.

As Max leaned in to scan his retinas, James heard "I just passed him in the corridor" from the soldier they had just saw, and this was enough for Max to stop the scan and glance at the shell soldier beside him.

Noticing the commander's attention, he asked, "Sir?"

"Who's calling you?" asked Max. James felt a wave of foreboding.

There was a blast of static as the person on the other end shouted something incomprehensible, but James picked up some words along the way:

"... ordered … Max and… at once!"

The soldier slowly lowered his radio. Max looked at him murderously.

"Who the fuck was that?" he snarled.

The soldier reached for his rifle but was promptly blasted to pieces by the shotgun shell Max released from his SPAS-12. His body landed against the wall, impaled by shrapnel.

There was another movement from in the corridor, and James instinctively raised his shotgun, firing on the soldier whom they had passed earlier, his body blasted into the wall opposite, bleeding badly from bullet wounds in his chest.

"Fuck," shouted Max. "Let's get the ones in the break room."

James was surprised to see the commander walk ahead of the group, taking matters into his own hands. He was a force to be reckoned with. The two bodyguards followed, as did James. They rounded a corner, where there were a set of lockers along a wall.

Max retreated just in time, narrowly avoiding the rifle fire which impaled the wall where Max had stood only seconds before.

James watched as Max retrieved a frag grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and promptly chucked it round the corner. There was a shout, a muffled cry and twin yells as the grenade exploded. Max rounded the corner and James followed the bodyguards, taking up the rear as he saw the remains of the two guards spread-eagled on the floor.

The break room was a shambles: upturned tables and chairs without legs, cushions exploded of stuffing and a rack of magazines upended, periodicals torn to shreds. The shell soldiers themselves were riddled with shrapnel and blood and the oozing decay of death.

"Fucking bastards," said Max, bending to check the soldier's pockets. There was nothing.

"What made them turn on you?" asked one of the bodyguards.

Max shook his head slowly as he rose, silent in thought for a moment.

"They knew I was coming… "

James followed Max as he walked out of the break room, stepped over the corpse in the hallway. He turned to his entourage.

"There's a girl in here who has a device that can deflect bullets and stop grenades," he muttered, making James's ears perk up. "She's protected by a Tengu. Get ready."

He bent down and scanned his eyes against the retinal scanner.

Grace

Grace was shaken awake, glancing blearily into the gas-mask of her Tengu bodyguard.

"Aah!" she jumped in surprise, then remembered. "Sorry."

"You need to get up," he said insistently. "There's a threat in Shell 1."

"What?" Grace wriggled out of her sleeping bag. "Where?"

"I've been informed that Max has gone rogue. Commander Zoe thinks that he killed the soldiers in B1; she lost contact with all of them within a matter of seconds."

"You think he's on his way in here?" she asked in shock. Her codec began to buzz and she answered it.

"Who is this?" whispered Grace.

"It's Zoe," came the voice. "Max's headed for you. He wants your EM device - "

"Disconnect the call," warned the Tengu, and Grace did so. "Stay close to me."

Grace could hear the "access granted" voice and hid behind her Tengu as she heard footsteps come close. The Tengu drew his sword, assuming a defensive stance.

She watched as Max rounded the corner, shotgun loose in his hand as his three bodyguards took up the rear. They were all similarly equipped in Kevlar with shotguns.

"Stand down," Max ordered. His gaze rested on the Tengu.

"Negative. You're classed as a threat to my commander. Put down your weapons or I will eliminate you and your men."

"And make it easier?" Max laughed. "No, thanks. Fire!"

One of Max's bodyguards pulled a knife on the other just as two shotgun blasts echoed and the Tengu disappeared in a blur. Bullets skidded on either side of Grace as she cringed and gasped. She was unhurt.

The Tengu leapt down from where he had soared into the sky; slashing the remaining bodyguard in two, knocking Max out with a swift backhand to the face and holding his sword level to the neck of the remaining bodyguard, who held a bloody knife in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Grace demanded, of the bodyguard who had killed one of his own men.

"I'm not a traitor," panted the bodyguard, dropping his knife at once.

"You killed the men in the corridor," said the Tengu. "You are a traitor."

"This was the only chance I had to get back at the commander," panted the bodyguard, stricken in fear. "He was insubordinate."

"Let him go," breathed Grace in despair. "We need all the help we can get."

With Max's two bodyguards lying dead on the floor - one slashed in half, the other dying slowly from the knife thrust - and Max unconscious, the Tengu slowly removed his sword.

"I need to c-call Zoe…" said Grace, reaching for her codec.

The Tengu turned to the Kevlar soldier. "Guard the B1 entrance."

"There's no need." came a voice from above.

Everyone glanced up but there was nobody there.

"Zoe?" Grace recognised the voice, then clicked. "Turn off your stealth thing."

In an instant, Zoe appeared out of nowhere beside the Kevlar soldier, holding her HF blade to his neck. The soldier shuddered infinitesimally.

"Why did you keep this one alive?" she asked.

"He started killing his own men once Max started firing," explained Grace. "We think he was against it from the beginning."

Zoe moved over to Max's unconscious form. "The bastard. I should've known."

"What do you mean?" asked Grace.

"Max was at the elevator, asking to see you. When I granted him access, I received a call a few seconds later from Adam. He said that Clara had been attacked by Max's soldiers in Strut F - "

"What?" screamed Grace shrilly. "Is she OK?"

"She's fine, but she lost one of her bodyguards. They had to kill all the Strut F soldiers. Anyway, when I called the B1 crew to arrest Max, it was too late. He killed them all."

"That's correct," nodded the Kevlar-vested soldier. "We could hear your voice come in on the radio. When Max realised what was happening, it was frightening to behold."

"What did he say to you?" asked Grace. "Did he mention me?"

"He told us you have a device that prevents bullets from coming near you," he replied, and everyone saw the bullet holes that had become a permanent fixture in the tables and floor near Grace. "He mentioned a Tengu would be guarding you."

"He had no strategy, no plan," said Zoe. "He came in guns blazing and now he's done for."

"What do you want done with him?" asked the Tengu.

"We'll put him in the storage closet in B1. It'll be locked under level-3 access and remove anything he might remotely use to escape."

"His codec can't be removed," reminded the Tengu.

"I'll block his signal, so that he can only receive calls, and only from commanders," said Zoe. "Let's disarm him, then we'll drag him up the stairs."

"What about him?" Grace glanced in the Kevlar-vested guard's direction.

"He can come with me," said Zoe. "Unarmed."

James

Prior to the showdown: Max leaned in to scan his eyes against the retinal scanner, the voice intoned "access granted" and James followed the commander through into a large, enclosed room. There was a staircase which lead to the open-plan floor, and James kept his shotgun ready as he followed the two bodyguards down the steps. When he turned the corner, he saw a young, unarmed girl hiding nervously behind what he assumed was the Tengu - a mech-unit gripping the handle of a sword, looking absolutely ferocious in armor and stature.

"And make it easier?" Max laughed.

James's insides twinged. There was no way he would survive a bout with a Tengu, less a girl who claimed to deflect bullets and grenades. He should've knocked Max out earlier, but there was little time to guarantee anything amidst the firefight -

"No, thanks. Fire!" ordered Max, raising his shotgun.

At the same time that Max and his two bodyguards fired, James drew his knife from its sheath and plunged it into the neck of the nearest bodyguard, blood oozing from the wound. He withdrew the knife to plunge it into the second bodyguard's neck, but watched in horror as he was split in two, the Tengu appearing out of nowhere and delivering a severe backhand to Max, knocking him out instantly. He felt the edge of the Tengu's sword and stiffened, realising this could be it.

"He can come with me," said the girl called Zoe, ginger haired and freckles on her pale skin, stealth camo attached to her belt and a HF blade in her hand. "Unarmed."

Miraculously, he had survived the shootout, but he was not sure he would live to tell the tale. He had voluntarily given up his weapons and now stood unarmed, lugging his former commander up the staircase while the commander Zoe kept a close eye on him.

He was in quite a dichotomy and had to tread very carefully from now on. The commander Zoe, ruthless and suspicious with a stealth device was dangerous to the hilt of her HF blade, and the commander Grace, shielded by electromagnetic technology and one of the legendary Tengus, was just as difficult as a target. The situation had managed to isolate the commander Max, who without his weapons or an army was pitiful, but even so, he still had two more commanders yet unknown. Were they all so splendidly protected or equipped?

Killing these commanders was going to be harder than first expected.

"Hurry up," said Zoe, as they exited the private quarters and stepped out onto the corridor. She was cloaked in stealth camo, and James had no chance to work out where she was at any given time.

James dragged Max's unconscious body over the streaks of blood and spent bullet casings which littered the hallway and into the storage room, tying his hands and feet with rope and double-checking that he had been relieved of everything, especially his PAN card.

"Come with me," spoke the voice which came from the corridor. James obeyed, joining Grace and her Tengu bodyguard in the elevator. Zoe was invisible, standing somewhere.

The elevator dropped Grace and the Tengu off at level B2, but when James made a move to exit he felt the edge of a sword graze his neck.

"I will be taking you to Strut E. You will be forming part of a bodyguard unit for one of our commanders," said Zoe.

James stepped back on the elevator as the doors closed and it ascended to the first floor. They walked down the hallway together, though to the shell soldiers it looked as though James was unaccompanied, for Zoe could not be seen, only her footsteps echoing on the tiles. They exited onto the EF connecting bridge, and James was still wondering how to manuever a hostile takeover when he saw a young woman accompanied by a high-tech soldier, wearing a dome helmet, padded Kevlar armor and holding a M4 carbine.

"So," spoke the girl. "You're the one who turned on my brother."

"He turned traitor," said James. "The bastard deserved it."

Clara turned to Zoe, who had reappeared all of a sudden. "Where is he?"

"Tied up in the storage closet in B1, under level-3 security."

"Did you take his PAN card?" Clara asked derisively.

"Of course," came the stiff reply.

Clara was uncomfortable for a moment, tugging on her sleeve. "I don't know why he'd do it."

"He wanted Grace's EM device." said Zoe simply. "His bodyguards are dead, save for this one. But I'm not sure what to do with him, let alone trust him."

"How is he supposed to guard me without weapons?" asked Clara, turning to James. "Where's your AK?"

"Confiscated. As was their right," added James. "I don't need a weapon."

"You don't?" asked Zoe and Clara in unison, shocked.

James shook his head. "I will prove my worth to you. If my loyalty is in question, have me guard you without a weapon."

"That's insane," said Zoe. "You'll die in seconds."

James shrugged, a momentous gesture at ease with his morals. At this point in time, all he had to do was win their trust. Anything further would arouse suspicion.

"My loyalty is to the commanders. I will be a human shield for you," he said.

Clara paused for a long second, then, drawing herself together, delivered a stiff "Fine".

"Where's Grace?" asked Clara. "Is she OK?"

"She's returned to the computer room with her Tengu. Where's Adam?"

"He's securing Strut F. The strut will be locked under level-3 access, unguarded, as a result of the mutiny earlier."

Mutiny? James asked himself. This must have been the precursor that set the other commanders of, and led to Zoe issuing the alert that had caused Max's ire in B1.

"So, what's the plan from here on out?" asked Clara.

Zoe retrieved the Kevlar vest which Max had formerly owned, chucking it to Clara, who barely caught it in time.

"We need to keep our guard up. We've lost four strut soldiers, four shell soldiers and three bodyguards. The enemy still hasn't surfaced yet." said Zoe, checking her watch.

"Is Grace checking the radar for the Kasatka?"

"No sign yet," replied Zoe. "I've asked her to keep a check on the marine radar, but we've secured all entry points from the oil rig and the deep sea dock."

"Max's Stinger is still in Strut F. We'll need it if a Kasatka comes." said Clara.

"Give it to one of your soldiers on the helipad," said Zoe. "They'll have the best vantage point."

She rubbed her eyes. "I need to take a nap. Keep me posted."

"Sure," said Clara dryly, turning on her heel. She spoke over her shoulder to James. "Keep up. If you're to protect me, you'll need to walk in front."

The high-tech soldier took the rear as James walked past Clara and placed himself in front of her, walking towards Strut F. He felt vulnerable and secure at the same time.

Max

Max roused groggily, straining to move but finding that his wrists were tied. He awkwardly managed to stand, noticing he was in a storage closet of some kind, with a few empty lockers with their doors ajar and packaging crates holding tinned food.

"Aaaarrrgh!" with a rush of blood to his head he remembered the shootout in the private quarters, that the bullets intended for the Tengu had blasted Grace to no avail, and that cries and shrieks from his bodyguards had been the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

He had been stripped of his Kevlar vest, all his weapons and, as he found out when he tried to open the door, relieved of his PAN card.

"FUCK!" he yelled, kicking the door in vain and stubbing his toe, hopping around and crashing into the packaging crates clumsily. "Open this damn door!"

Nobody responded. He didn't even know if the door was soundproof. His eye caught onto a keypad on the side of the automated door, with a 'call' button near the intercom. These were functional in every single automated door in Shell 1, providing a connection to the B2 computer room who received the calls. He pressed it and heard Grace's voice.

"Hello?" she answered uncertainly.

"Grace," said Max. "Where the fuck am I? Who tied me up in here?"

There was a pause, then a dial tone followed by a connection sound.

"Hello? Who's there?" shouted Max.

"Me," came Zoe's voice.

"Clara." came a reply, then another: "It's Adam, Max."

"I asked Grace to patch us through on a conference call if you tried to contact us, so there's nothing suspect going on," said Zoe. "You're arrested until we can work out what to do with you."

"With me?" Max shouted. "You fucking dicks!"

"You tried to kill Grace!" shouted Adam, who always enjoyed a verbal fistfight.

"And your soldiers in Strut F tried to kill me and my men," added Clara furiously. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"How did you think you would get away with this?" Adam demanded.

"If you don't let me out of here - " Max threatened.

"You're going to do… what?" Clara spat viciously. "We're keeping you in there till you rot in hell, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. We've severed your codec so that you can't even make calls or receive them from anybody but us. You're trapped - deal with it. If you're lucky, we won't have to throw you off the side of the bridge."

"BITCH - "

The intercom disconnected. Max slammed it with his hand, then looked around the room for anything he could use to escape, but there was nothing. The lockers were empty and the crates held only tinned food…

An idea crossed his mind. He positioned one of the locker doors between his hands where the rope was tightly bound, and with his back to it began to slowly cut the rope with the edge of the door. It didn't work very well, but loosened up the grip just enough so that if he grit his teeth and pulled, with a gasp of pain he managed to release one of his wrists, rubbing it achingly and pulling off the loosely tied rope. Now both his hands were free.

He opened one of the crates, revealing a row of tinned food. He took out one of the tins and held it in his fist, a rudimentary weapon at best. He moved the crates aside one by one to check if they contained anything other than tins, anything that might be construed as a weapon when he noticed an air vent near the floor, bolted shut with an iron grate.

Heart pounding, he painstakingly moved the crates to the other side of the room, stacked one by one haphazardly on top of each other and lay down flat to eye level with the grate.

There was a faint breeze and a long, metal passage which veered off to the right with no discernible way of telling where it led. Max bashed the tin against the grate, again and again with no result, his arm aching until he gave up, snaking his fingers through the rungs and tugging. A screw came loose, but three remained. He kept at it until he was sweaty and panting, till finally the grate came loose with one final tug. He entered the air vent, feeling vaguely claustrophobic and quite vulnerable as he shimmed through, unable to twist or turn, only move forward. The vent began to twist upward. He felt gusts of air from where he was headed, and finally saw a light filtering through the shadows. As he got closer he saw he was looking down on the locker room on the core's first floor. There were multitudes of lockers, along with several packaging crates and a lone guard, stashing his cigarettes in his locker before checking his AK and returning back to his post. Now the room was empty.

To his amazement, the grate which he looked through was detachable, and with a cry of delight he slid it open, where it hung on its hinges. Now all Max had to do was jump down, from not a high height but still, one that wouldn't be without a struggle.

He hesitated. What if the soldiers had been notified that he had been branded traitor? He had killed their comrades without hesitation, an act that surely couldn't have gone unnoticed, even if the commanders hadn't broadcasted the news of his disloyalty.

There was no way to guarantee that he had friends on the inside.

Max shimmied through the vent. pausing every few seconds to listen carefully for the sounds of footsteps. One wrong move, and he would be hanging half-hidden from the vent, a swinging pinata for all to see. He squeezed out of the gap, hanging onto the grate with his fingertips as he let his body swing and as his weight dropped beneath him, his fingertips dug painfully into the grate and he released his grip out of sheer pain. He landed on top of a few boxes which broke his fall, but pain lanced through his fingers and he sucked them to stop the pounding before he heard the automatic door open from the other side of the partition.

He removed the length of rope that had bound his wrists earlier from his pocket, pulling it tightly like a fibre wire and hiding behind a stack of crates just as the footsteps came closer. He heard the twist of a dial and heard a locker open. Max peeked around the corner and saw the back of a shell soldier, rifling through his personal items.

Max advanced on him slowly, but as he got halfway he saw the soldier turn towards him and acted on impulse, drawing his arm back and whipping the coil of rope around the soldier's face just as the two exchanged glances.

The soldier stumbled, hands drawn in a defensive cringe just as Max sent a punch to his gut, then grabbing the soldier from underneath his arms, drawing him in close and kneeing him in the stomach again. Groaning, the soldier crumpled in his arms, slipping quickly into unconsciousness.

Max acted fast. He dragged the body behind the crates of boxes, and began to undress and disarm the soldier, leaving him lying bare in his boxers, a sharp red weal on his cheek.

Max changed into the soldier's BDU, which barely fit, hefting the strap of the AK around his body and attaching the holstered Makarov, length of grenades along his belt and scout knife sheathed on his chest. He pulled the balaclava tight over his face so he could see through the eye holes and checked that the soldier's radio worked. It did - Max nearly leapt in joy. He checked the soldier's PAN card - level 2. It would have to do.

There was no way Max could climb back into the vent above. Even if he could, he would need a PAN card with higher clearance.

He dragged the unconscious soldier across the storeroom, shoving him inside his own locker and closing it. He had no clue how long he had until the soldier regained consciousness, but there was no way to kill him without leaving a blood trail better left unexplained.

He walked through the partition, past a long line of lockers and exited onto the left side of the first floor, the hallway snaking in a long line in the direction of the elevator, while an avenue to the left lead to the BC connecting bridge. A single shell soldier patrolled the long hallway, nodding to him as he passed.

"Long shift," he muttered.

Max nodded and passed him by, waiting until the soldier was out of sight before slipping into the corridor which lead to the BC bridge. He forgot about the surveillance camera positioned in the archway, which swivelled as he exited onto the BC bridge.

The chilly night air added to his goosebumps as he noticed a lone soldier patrolling the bridge. When they met gazes, the soldier said, "What are you doing out here?"

"Where's the other soldier?" asked Max, casually striding beside the soldier, glancing out over the balcony.

The soldier paused, scratching his head. "He's on his break - "

Max took the soldier by surprise and jammed the butt of his rifle into his chest, letting the rifle fall on its strap to his chest and grabbing the soldier by the scruff of his neck, forcing him over the railing not without a great deal of strength and willpower.

He went overboard with a yell that pierced the night sky, drowned out as he plummeted. Max wasn't sure if anyone heard, but he wasn't going to stay to find out. He quickly strode over towards Strut C, hearing the distant splash from below before he walked through the door that opened automatically.

The bright, flouroescent lights threw everything in sharp relief. He glimpsed the gender-segregated bathrooms between the long hallway from which a door was opening, and Max tore into the men's bathroom, seeing only one cubicle locked and closing himself inside the other. He heard one set of footsteps echo in the hallway, headed off in another direction as they drowned out. A thought occured to him, one that shocked him raw.

What if Adam was in the cubicle opposite him? He was the only other male commander who it could be besides any of the soldiers. Could he talk to him, convince him perhaps… no.

Max didn't need to convince himself of Adam's totalitarian, thoroughly loyal ego. He was dedicated to a fault, but still… if Max could catch him at the right time, he could take him out…

Max tucked his knees up on the closed lid of the toilet seat and balanced himself by placing his arms against the cubicle door. He bent over, tentatively peeking to see if the occupant had laced boots (soldier) or loafers (Adam). What he saw was neither: bare ankles.

With a feeling of foreboding, Max straightened himself and stood on the toilet cistern, reaching over the cubicle wall to peek over. He was shocked. He was not the only one who had stolen an enemy's uniform and hidden the body.

Clara

Clara was very tired, wishing she could take a nap right about now. She had given the Stinger to a soldier atop the helipad and checked ammunition shipments on the conveyor belt to check they were going to the right places. There was little to do but go round from strut to strut, trying to deal with the mental miasma of having a filthy traitor brother.

As it stood, she was in Strut C, standing over a microwave as she waited for her two-minute noodles to be ready. Her high-tech bodyguard was on his first break, sitting in the cafeteria opposite Max's old bodyguard, who had to be the biggest idiot to defend her without a weapon. Zoe didn't trust him with one, but still… she needed men, not boys.

Her codec buzzed and she answered it with a vague, "I'm not checking the shipment again, I'm on my break - "

"Clara, it's me," came Max's voice, whispered and hurried. "Go somewhere quiet where nobody can hear you."

"What?" Clara said. "How are you even talking - "

"Shut up," he hissed. "You said you took one of my bodyguards as your own. Where is he?"

"He's by my side," Clara lied, glancing across to where her bodyguards sat in the cafeteria.

"Clara," Max said, urgently. "He's an imposter."

"What are you talking about, dick?" replied Clara. "He's on our side. He turned on you and he's been guarding me without a weapon. He's an idiot, but he's on our side."

"The only time I've been without any of my bodyguards is when I went to the bathroom before I visited Grace. I waited outside while he was at the urinal, and when he returned we went to Shell 1 together. That's the only time we've been apart."

"OK…" Clara pondered, and the microwave beside her beeped to inform her the noodles were done.

"Well?" Max cursed impatiently. "Doesn't it make sense? Adam said that all bodyguards are loyal at the beginning. I've treated all mine the same. If one decided I was a traitor, why did the others shoot Grace as I asked? Doesn't it make sense that either all of them should've done one or the other?"

There was a logic to what Max was saying. Clara slowly took the noodles out of the microwave and said "ow!" when she burnt her hand without looking. Her high-tech bodyguard glanced up from where he sat, concerned.

"So you're saying," whispered Clara in a low tone, now watching the soldier who sat without a weapon, "he's disloyal? But that - "

"I found his body, Clara," said Max. "I've seen all my bodyguards without balaclavas, and one of them is stuffed in a hiding place, naked and unarmed."

Clara paused, blood rushing to her head. "But… but why would one soldier impersonate another?"

"You're not thinking clearly, idiot," shot back Max, his voice returning to normal. "It's not a soldier! It's the  _ enemy _ \- "

Clara's blood chilled as she glanced up and saw her two bodyguards entering the kitchen.

"Everything OK?" asked the high-tech soldier.

Clara nodded mutely. Her eyes snapped to the soldier, who stood unarmed in his BDU, holster and sheath empty, belt devoid of grenades.

"Clara?" came the reply on the codec, which only she could hear.

"I'll join you in a moment," said Clara. "Go back into the dining hall."

They nodded and complied, turning around. When they were out of earshot, Clara hissed,

"How do I know the imposter didn't die in the shootout?"

"Before I went to the bathroom, I told my bodyguards that dirty joke we read in  _ Hustler _ , remember?"

"The one about the fat lady," said Clara dubiously.

"One of the cubicles was occupied when I entered. Whoever was in there never came out, which is why one soldier took longer than the rest. Which means that they couldn't have heard the joke earlier."

_ It made sense _ . Clara glanced over uncertainly to the unarmed soldier standing beside the high-tech guard, glancing over at her from across the room.

"If he doesn't know the joke…" Clara took a deep breath. "OK."

"You need to come find me afterwards," said Max. "Be careful. Who ever it is, they've convinced all of you not to kill him."

Clara disconnected and strode across the room, noticing the high-tech soldier alone at the table.

"Where's the other guy?" she said, alarmed. The four strut soldiers eating their rations quietly nearby glanced up.

"He went to the bathroom," said the high-tech guard, standing all of a sudden. "What's wrong?"

Clara paled. She dialed Zoe on her codec.

"Yeah?"

"Can you track the positions of soldiers by their codec signals?"

"What? Why - "

"I need you to find out where my bodyguard is," said Clara. "The one who used to belong to Max - "

"Isn't he with you?" asked Zoe. "What - "

"Now, now!" cried Clara, drawing her pistol in alarm. Her high-tech bodyguard readied his M4, as did the strut soldiers with their AKs. "The enemy's snuck inside Shell 1 and he's been impersonating Max's bodyguard ever since!"

Zoe

Zoe's fingers flew across the keyboard. She had allowed Grace another reprieve at a nap, since she was so tired from the shock and had taken her place in B2.

"Where are you right now?" asked Zoe. "The cafe in Strut C! Hurry up!" replied Clara.

She brought up the directory of codec numbers not a second after Clara had spoken, sorting the results by 'bodyguards' and then 'Max'. There were three numbers.

She triangulated the location of all three by pinging their radio frequencies, then remembered too late that by doing so, all would be alerted to a one-ring call.

"He knows I'm tracking him," said Zoe. The screen showed three blue lines which crisscrossed inside the 3D model of the Big Shell. Two were together in B1, but the third was in Strut C. "He's in the men's bathroom. Hurry!"

Zoe kept the codec call passive and heard rushing footsteps on Clara's end, hurried cries of "follow me!" and "keep your guard up!". She accessed the soldier's profile in question, displaying his rank 'bodyguard/Max' and PAN card level. She devalidated it so that it could not open any doors.

"I've deleted his PAN card rights," said Zoe. "He can't escape the building! Go!"

Clara

She kept the codec call passive as she rounded the corner, issuing a soldier to stay out in the hallway and keep guard while three others burst into the men's bathroom. She had ordered all of the strut soldiers to remove their balaclavas so that there was no case of mistaken identity. Clara followed them with her USP raised, her high-tech guard taking up the rear. She checked every spare avenue before she joined the strut soldiers in the bathroom, who had cleared everywhere but two closed cubicle doors.

"Open them," ordered Clara, her USP raised. He was toast.

They opened one door, coming face to face with the slumped figure of a man in his underwear. He had a sharp indent around his neck. This had to be Max's original bodyguard.

"Come out!" shouted Clara, four rifles aimed at the door. She tore open the door.

He was bent double over the toilet, as though he was vomiting, but as she yanked him out by the shoulder she backed up in shock. It was Max. His neck was a curved arc of blood.

"Jesus," said one soldier.

"Max," moaned Clara, clutching her brother to her chest. Tears fell freely from her eyes.

"Max?" shouted Zoe on her codec. "How the fuck did he get there?"

"H-he's dead," Clara wept, noticing the discarded radio in the toilet bowl. "The imposter knew we were coming."

"But he couldn't have gone far!" said Zoe, after a moment's pause. "There's nowhere to hide but the women's bathrooms!"

Clara abandoned her brother's corpse on the floor, blood seeping through his clothes and raised her USP, murder in her eyes.

"The women's bathroom," she said, tearing around the corner but her bodyguard held her back. "No! I'll kill the fucker!"

At firm insistence she was surrounded as they made their way out into the hallway, where the same guard she recognised as the one in the hallway shook his head in response to seeing any suspect activity. They moved into the women's bathroom, where four cubicles doors stood ajar. They were all clear.

"Where the fuck is he?" asked Clara, feeling deja vu to the situation in Strut F earlier.

"Of course!" Zoe shouted. "He must've escaped before I devalidated his PAN card! He's on the BC bridge! I'm contacting all units to surround him!"

James

He had been alerted to suspect activity by Clara when she hunched over to talk something private into her radio. If he missed his chance now, he'd be shot on the spot. Quickly he hurried out of the mess hall in a hurried stride, down the corridor and into the men's bathroom, hoping to retrieve his sneaking suit and not go down without a fight. He saw that both cubicle doors were closed, which showed a likelihood that whoever had ratted him out had seen the body in the other cubicle!

He drew his knife and kicked in the door of the second cubicle, coming face to face with Max.

"Ah!" came Max's cry as James plunged his knife into his neck, then hurrying out of Strut C, not noticing that although he exited freely, the door closed shut with a red light above it, just as his PAN card was deactivated from Zoe.

"Fuck," he swore, realising he had been cut off from all angles. Soldiers started to filter from Strut B and the Shell 1 Core, just as he hid himself at the BC bridge intersection, but now from a third place soldiers came pouring out of Strut C, Clara and her other bodyguards among them.

Try as he might, James could not cover himself from three points of gunfire and yelped and screamed as bullets riddled his body, protected as he was by Kevlar but without a weapon besides the knife.

"You fucking useless bastard," Clara approached James where he lay with a smug smirk on his face, splattered with blood.

"Well, I killed one of you," he spat bitterly onto the ground, as soldiers converged on him from three routes.

"Good for you," said Clara, raising her pistol and firing. "Better luck next time."


End file.
